Tropical Storm Andrea made its way up from the Gulf Coast, right up to the North Carolina Outer Banks. This meant that we had wind and rain on our anniversary, but that’s fine because we had each other and some indoor activities.
We spent the morning of our anniversary at the NC Aquarium on Manteo. Wonderful exhibits there, including an alligator snapping turtle. They have a nice campus overlooking the ocean. We sat for awhile and watched the sea.
Afterwards, we found a great little (and I mean little) café in downtown Manteo and it was delicious. We toured some of the local shops and Jason found a gorgeous antique print for his office.
We decided to spend some time on the beach once the rain let up, but we weren’t expecting the tropical winds to use sand as shrapnel. Ow.
Next was dinner, and it was DELICIOUS! We were most pleased.
We returned to the hotel, opened the patio door, sipped wine and just talked.
When it got too dark to see anything, Jason had me sit on the couch. He went to the bedroom and when he came back he proposed. It was heart moving! My response was “Yes! Yesyesyesyes YAY!”
Despite the rain and piercing wind, we had a great time.
I love my husband and all the things he does for me and all the things he puts up with for me.
Our wedding date was a coincidence; we wanted to ensure Megan’s maid of honor could (legally) drink. We had originally selected a date in late May. Our venue wasn’t available. The first Saturday they were available was June 7th.
What’s so special about June 7th?
Not much…usually. But June 7th, 2008? In American notation, that’s 06/07/’08. Your last chance to have a “sequential” date this millennium is 11/12/’13.
The date was a bonus I didn’t care much about. Even as a kid, I’d fantasized marrying the woman of my dreams.
Megan literally was. In every sense of the word. The Beatles must have had her in mind when they wrote Because: She turns me on, she makes me high, she makes me cry, more than the world, wind and sky.
It was the happiest day of my life…but so have many days spent together since. It’s a delicious paradox. Read More →
Monday, I told how I’d swore off dating and met Megan on my birthday; how my friend accused me of “trying too hard” and Megan herself forgot my name. Yesterday, I told how we discovered Megan was a gamer, and I called “dibs.”
Our story didn’t end there.
In fact, the story of our relationship properly begins with utter rejection and total humiliation.
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Many have asked how I got my wife to game. I don’t know how it is for others, but among my friends, there are only two kinds of couples: Mixed couples with one gamer…
…and BATTLE COUPLES, RAWR!
We’re a battle couple. We’ve played MMOs together. Platformers. Band games. Puzzle games. RPGs. Cards. Boards. Strategy. Despite our introversion, our BATTLE COUPLE status is the envy of friends whose partner (for unfathomable reasons) does. Not. Game.
Worse, the Muggle determines all shared activities, insisting that the gamer watch tv during family time, but the Gamer can never ask the reverse (for the Muggle to join in gaming). It’s one-sided. Personally, I think both parties should make sacrifices.
Their stories are familiar and heartbreaking: The raid cut short because your partner was irritated. Leveling slower than your friends because the honey-do list (intentionally?) leaves no time for play. Audible nagging in Ventrilo’s background.
They all ask the same question: “How did you get your wife to game?”
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In 2002, I lived in Harlaxton Manor in the United Kingdom. In 2003, I made my triumphant return to Stateside.
I’d made the Dean’s list. I was Gandalf at the costume ball. My fiction won applause at open mic night. My music won applause at the talent show. All the girls said they’d miss me.
I celebrated my homecoming by securing the worst job of my life, worse than my brief attempt in the military, worse than my year as Detention officer, worse than using cat litter to soak up liquid detergent.
I knew none of that. I had my first apartment, my first pager. My first private bathroom. From now on, my tuition was paid; no more loans. It would take me longer to finish school, but I was in no hurry. Life was good.
And I had determined never to date another woman for as long as I lived.
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Jason and Megan, 2008
I never gave Megan an engagement ring or technically asked her to marry me.
When I worked for the Sheriff’s department, Megan found a ring she liked and called me at work. The ring was on sale because the store was going out of business. The store was open for one more day…for 8 hours in the middle of my 12-hour shift. I couldn’t come see the ring or buy it for her out of custom. Either she bought, it or waited for another she liked.
Megan assured me:
- We could afford the ring.
- She liked it.
- She had no misgivings.
Mobile phones don’t work inside Orange County Jail (Hillsborough). Calls from the Missus were taken at the front desk, a huge office separated into “behind” and “out front” by huge metal bars — the same ones that demarcated cells. The room was part office, part break room for everyone working “up top” (the front half of the jail).
My half of the conversation was plainly audible.
After hanging up, I turned to my fellow officers and said, “Guess I’m getting married.”
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